Ten Days
by BabyJane14
Summary: Sickness didn't exactly make her pleasent or willing...


**Manda's Note: **Yea so there's really no note here. I've been wasting my time on a few little one shots and what not that'll you'll be getting slowly along with my updates. Yep... Sure Did update will be very very soon. I was given a review today that really made me stop and think and add somethings to it and I really appreciate that. it's things like that that mean so much to me. anywayssss read this and enjoy! there's no real point to it and I don't even know how it came about. Just thank you Roo for putting up with me and reading it before hand.

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Day One

"Noah Puckerman I'm going to murder you. I'm going to put that pillow that's under your head over your face and slowly suffocate you till you're no longer breathing. Do you understand me?"

The vengeful Latina barked out the moment Puck's eyes were open. He hadn't even focused yet and already he was in trouble. Maybe he should have just stayed with Finn and Mike's rather than bringing her the chicken soup she'd demanded from Panera. He was just trying to be the good ex boyfriend? Boyfriend? Best friend? …whatever the hell he was to her now. He'd always jumped when Santana said she needed something. Sure, maybe because it usually had to do with her rewarding him after but, that was beside the point. She hadn't done shit for him in weeks. Instead he'd spent the past three weeks since she'd been kicked down in Cheerios trying to prove to her that it wasn't Quinn he wanted. Trying to prove to her that he did appreciate her, he always had, he'd just had a few stupid slip ups over the years. Nothing different from her, it wasn't like he was the only one of the two of them that slept around at leisure. The whole thing was a task that was beginning to prove daunting. Especially when he woke up to death threats, the sad part was… he should have been used to it.

"Yup Santana… I hear you."

He lazily drawled on without opening his eyes. Her angry glare wasn't one he actually had to look at to see. He'd known it well enough in the past year from memory, it seemed like when it came to the two of them that was one of the only looks she was willing to give him anymore. Given after everything he'd done he deserved her glares. It still didn't mean he had to look at her to see the glare on her face. Instead he simply lifted his hand to scratch at the itchy spot behind his right shoulder… and the spot on his chest… and on his leg…and…

"Don't scratch dumbass."

Oh. Fuck. No. with the thoughts rapidly moving speed though his head he opened his eyes to glance at his arm. Sure enough… little red splotches colored his light skin. Rolling onto his side the first thing he looked at was her, laying on her side staring at him. Her perfectly artificially tanned caramel skin was covered in puss filled red splotches. He could see the pain in her eyes from the incredible itchiness that covered every inch of both of their bodies.

"Sex isn't scratching but it is friction… might take our minds off the itching."

Yea, given the look she gave him when the sleepy words left his mouth… it was going to be a very very long nine days to two weeks unless a miracle happened. They were pretty much both doomed. The only contest would be to see who could go longer without trying to murder the other.

**Day 3**

"How is it fucking possible that out of all of our friends no one's ever had the chicken pox?"

She complained and threw herself back into the pillow. They'd had three days of just one another. Three days he'd gone back and forth between sweetheart and perv while she tried to keep her calm and not strangle him. There was only one thing worse than Santana on a bad day… Santana that didn't feel good. Her normal bitching was casted over with a side of whining. She went through her points of not wanting to be touched to wanting him to hold her. She was like an angry four year old that wasn't getting her way. Course Puck was used to her mild mood changes, when she had colds she could be just as erratic and vicious, this was something different all together.

"Because they managed to get the second vaccine ten years later?"

Yep, he should have seen it coming… the pillow that hit him right in the face. At least she hadn't run her hand up a down his chest like she'd done the last twenty times he'd pissed her off. It'd made him instantly start to itch worse again. She'd found it as her best defense mechanism to get him back when he started pissing her off, or, just when she felt like it because she knew that it was the one thing that would get right under his skin. He was having a worse problem with the scratching than she was. Maybe it had something to do with his lack of self control, just like everything else, she'd said to him 'don't scratch' he'd wanted to do it just that much more.

"My question to you is how did you manage not to get Brittany sick?"

The pillow once again hit the side of his head circulating his headache a little bit more. He was about ready to pin her down on the bed just to get her to stop with the pillows and fingers. But, she hadn't let him have that luxury since before they knew they were sick together.

"It would be much more peaceful if it was Brittany. She doesn't piss me off half as much as you do."

Her statement was on that made him roll on his side and edge closer to her as he put his arms around her waist and his head on her chest. It didn't take long till she was slowly outlining the slow growing Mohawk (freshly outlined the day before they'd gotten stuck in the mess) from his forehead to the nape of his neck over and over. A move that had always proved to sooth her over whatever anything was bothering her, he couldn't understand it but it felt good so he wasn't about to question it either.

"Britt can't do this for you can she"

He smirked at her sigh and turned his head just enough to place a kiss to a non pox spot.

**Day 5**

"Miss your mom washing your hair?"

She asked from the perch she held sitting cross-legged on his back dragging her two pointer fingers up and down the line of his Mohawk. She couldn't remember the last time she'd spent more than three days in a row waking up in her house. This five day thing was a record. A record that she didn't have any problem with given the fact that her father was doing an eye lift and a boob job in Fresno that she'd been told for some reason or other would undoubtedly take two weeks. Whatever, he could fuck whoever he wanted so long as he didn't bother her. Besides, the last thing she really felt like dealing with was him when she didn't feel good.

Dropping her hands further from his hair she started to run her hands over his bare shoulders, rubbing more of the calamine lotion in. She'd given up her grudges the day before when she'd woken up to his special pancakes with chocolate and peanut butter chips. His irresistible peace offering that he'd known she wouldn't of turned away. Sylvester could suck it if she gained a pound or two, Santana didn't feel good and she wasn't going to refrain from making herself feel better. Puck's fluffy and slightly gooey pancakes with a glass of chocolate milk was almost the perfect medicine. The only thing that had topped it off had been the joint shower. Had his mother not decided that she was better off just turning a blind eye to what the two did when no one was around she might have suffered heart failure due to the two seventeen year olds. Then again it probably wasn't something that she didn't expect by now. It was just better not to ask questions, something she'd learned all too fast with the pair.

Had it not been for the fact that Jane herself and Puck's little sister never having the chick pox either they probably wouldn't have had their freedom. She'd probably of waited on them with no privacy rather than leaving chicken soup outside the door.

"Not if you want to take over the job all the time."

He yawned as she slowly hit all the tender spots in his neck with her finger tips. So maybe getting sick with her wasn't so bad, it wasn't like they got to spend quality time otherwise. This all just trapped her into talking to him without excuses to get away and run to Cheerios practice.

"You wish"

She smirked back and got off of him lying on her back clutching her towel. It was the simple moments, even if they only came when she had enough Motrin in her system to be mellow. So it wasn't exactly cheerios practice and football but it was always nice to take a break from the real world. Even if the break contained itchiness that would probably leave behind a couple of scars, scars she could handle, scars told stories.

**Day 7**

"Are you fucking serious? Santana! What the hell are you doing?"

He knew the 'divide the room' game all too well he just didn't expect to walk back into it when he'd only left to go to the bathroom. Now, the room was divided in half with duct tape with the purple duct tape she'd probably had under her bed. She was sitting up perfectly straight with her arms crossed and a glare on her face.

"Stay on your own side"

The sneer on her face told him that she wasn't joking either. Running a hand over his face he looked up at her ceiling for a moment shaking his head. What the hell had he seriously done to deserve it this time? Instead of even attempting to try and figure out why he was being punished he went straight to her closet for one of her quilts and a pillow to park himself on the floor since of course she'd given herself the unfair advantage of the bed. Pulling out the Little Mermaid quilt that he was positive he was the only one that knew about, he tugged a little too hard causing a few notebooks to spill down. bending down to pick them up his eyes scanned the inside cover of a freshmen year note book and an instant smirk reached his face.

"Santana Maria"

Rolling his R in her middle name caused her to look up with a death glare right away. His fake Spanish always pissed her off. He knew he was taking a shut Puck with the notebook in his hand Puck also knew that he had the upper hand in the matter.

"To hyphenate or not to hyphenate…"

Her eyes raised for a moment before lowering into a glare again.

"Son of a bitch"

The laugh that escaped his lips didn't help matters anyway yet he couldn't stop it. Even ticked off her face lightened in a slight smile, she was caught in an every normal teen girl normal moment. No one would have believed it if he told them. Besides, had he showed them they wouldn't have been able to read her scribbled mess of hand writing.

"Santana Maria Lopez-Puckerman ….Santana Maria Puckerman… got our kids names planned out in here too Tink?"

Before he could open his mouth to make another joke she'd jumped on his back and ripped the notebook away from him with both anger and embarrassment in her actions. How could he not laugh or turn it around tacking her backward onto the ground and burring his face into her neck.

"You're a jackass Puckerman"

She mumbled out not once pushing him off though. She was doomed and she knew it, Santana Lopez wasn't supposed to have average teenage moments, she wasn't supposed to be one of those girls that wrote her supposed boyfriend's name in hearts or matched his last name with her own. That was a side of herself that not even he'd gotten to see before.

**Day 9**

His eyes blinked open slowly as the sun started to pour into the teal painted room. The cool November air shook the windows violently as he attempted to pull the covers up around him only to notice the constriction on his chest. The hundred and seven pounds that sat square on him poking him with her finger, at least, that's what it'd felt like. As she came into focus finally he couldn't even attempt to hide his smile. She was sitting cross legged in one of his dirty tee shirts that she'd worn to bed, her hair not straight nor curly, just wavy and frizzy from sleep still. Her head bent slightly looking down at something or other, glasses covered her not yet makeup covered her face. She looked like she was deep in concentration on something… whatever the poking was. It wasn't till he looked down that he noticed what she was doing. Something that completely confused him.

"What are you doing?"

She looked up as his voice sounded but only for a moment before she looked right back down at his chest. The red marker in her hand poking at random spots here and there over where his pox marks had just started to scab over. Scabs that meant they were free to leave the bedroom whenever they were both up, dressed, and decent. Looking up at her again he noticed the bland look on her face and his own wrinkled up to a confused tilt.

"What's going on San?"

Reaching out he tucked a few pieces of hair behind her ear as she looked up at him bright brown meeting hazel for a moment and only a moment.

"I hate you"

With her sigh he laughed, wasn't that the same way they'd started their week? Course he hadn't really expected any other words to come out of her mouth. That would have been wishful thinking to ever wake up to anything else besides her angsty words.

"I just figured that maybe if more chicken pox appeared then we wouldn't have to leave the house for another day. …maybe even spend the whole day in bed"

Whispering seductively she leaned down and met him with a kiss. What Jane Puckerman didn't know about how long chicken pox lasted or didn't last wouldn't hurt her.


End file.
